Gravity
by xthefirestillburns
Summary: She hated feeling vulnerable, but the moment she found herself in his arms, surrounded by his touch none of that mattered. Randy/Trish/Steve.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **New Steve/Trish story, yeah! So after writing a one-shot about them and listening to Sarah Bareilles' 'Gravity', I decided to finally go through with the story I've so badly wanted to write since last year, but just couldn't find the time to do so. So here's the new story and I hope you like, guys. Remember: don't like the couple, don't read. Its that simple.

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The bar reeked of old cigarettes and beer, yet she mentally told herself to keep walking. She needed this. She needed something to clear her mind, whether that be driving around for hours, unsure of as to where she was actually going or entering an unknown bar such as this one to get a quick fix...or two, maybe. She hated the burning sensation alcohol left in her chest after swallowing it down, but tonight was a different story. She didn't care what burned her chest or the male dominant atmosphere, for that matter. All she wanted and all she needed was for the recent events in her life to be blocked out for a few hours, so she could be able to grasp some kind of peace of mind.

The last few weeks had been a tough one for her, indeed. She was unable to focus on her work with Tough Enough, resulting in her missing two training periods and a cut in her pay, going through marital problems that just couldn't be fixed with a few hugs and kisses, and most of all dealing with the fact that her father could possibly be on his deathbed after a sudden and mysterious case of pneumonia. Never had she dealt with any of the kind, nevertheless all at once, especially something so serious such as her father suffering an illness that could take him away from her right at this very moment.

The thought only sent chills down her spine and made her crave the alcohol even more. She didn't want to think about how much he was in pain and wanted to get better for not only her, but for her sisters and mother as well. She didn't even want to think about when she did arrive back at the hotel later on that evening, World War III would surely take place the moment her body walked through that door - that was she and Randy's usual routine the last couple weeks and by now she was used to it.

Taking a seat in one of the busted bar stools, her eyes carefully scanned the place - it looked even worse than when she came in. Bowls of half eaten beer nuts lie spilled all over the tables while the patrons, which mostly consisted of men and a few women gathered around betting money or dancing to the jukebox that apparently needed to be banged on with a fist every so often in order for a song to play. What was she thinking when she pulled up to this bar? Shaking the assumptions of the patrons and their seemingly rough ways out of her mind, her eyes turned to the bartender, who looked the most rough out of all the people in the run down demolition hang out.

A line of piercings gracefully aligned his bottom lip as a mural of tattoos covered his neck, arms, and knuckles. The black tear drop beside his right eye gave her the notion that he had either done some time in prison or killed someone, making it hard for her to keep her composure. Never in her life had she ever declared herself afraid of another living being until now and quite frankly, she had every reason to be. The burly man behind the counter gave a quiet snarl before grabbing a small napkin and placing it on the counter for her drink.

"What will it be?"

"Uh...mmm...a sco-whisk-," she couldn't even get her words out, seemingly irritating the baldheaded man even more than before she entered the bar. He rolled his eyes and placed his large hands on the counter, giving her a scowl that if it wanted to, could burn a hole right through her soul. The brunette quickly shut her mouth once he was face to face with her, jumping slightly once he was a mere few inches away.

"How you gonna come in a bar and not know what you want? You're lucky there's a menu up there, girl or else you wouldn't have been getting any service tonight. Did you not read the sign?" he inquired, a Southern accent rolling from the tip of his pierced tongue.

And for the second time that night she found herself stumbling over the words that couldn't be any more simple to say, "Wha-what sign?" she asked quietly.

"That sign!" he barked, pointing his finger at a large sign in the window that explained how their service worked - no decisions made before heading to the bar, no service. The thing might as well been slapped on her forehead since it was so plain to see. If she didn't feel like an airhead moments before, she did now and the bartender obviously didn't care enough to apologize for his blatant rudeness. When he saw that the brunette had yet to open her mouth or even eye the menu, he rolled his heavy blue eyes again, wondering just what was wrong with her. Did she not comprehend well? he thought.

Running his hand over his thick beard, the bartender let out a weary sigh before asking, "Are you alright?"

Her eyes couldn't even meet his in correspondence, looking down at the finished wooden counter as if her attention was solely focused on that when in reality it was focused on the unfortunate events that was only now starting to take a toll on her life. Any other time she wouldn't have even let her emotions get the best of her to the point where a stranger had to check on her well-being, but tonight she did and there she sit again not knowing how to respond. She knew nothing of this man, yet here he stood, eyes focused directly on her, saying the words her husband should've said a long time ago.

No, she never did respond, but it was quite clear from the get-go that she wasn't alright, allowing the drink slinger, who didn't look too friendly before give her a sympathetic look. Without saying another word, he went about his way to grab a shot glass from the cupboard and a bottle of Jack Daniels, hoping the drink would relieve her of her apparent gloominess.

Once he sat the glass of hard liquor down on the mini napkin, a frown a crossed his worn down face. Still no eye contact. Not even a thank you.

But wait...it seemed as if he made judgement too soon, because the second he turned his back to tend to yet another patron, a small 'thank you' happened to be sent his way, followed by a 'how much?'. His blue eyes met her brown ones, for the third time that night and his face softened, "Don't worry about it, hon."

She could try. How was it that a man she had only met tonight seem to care more about her current state of mind than her husband did in the last few months? There were many nights when she found herself rocking herself to sleep in the guest room, while Randy lie in the master bedroom sleeping the night away. She knew he heard her cries, yet never did question him on his lack of sympathy and his poor role of being a supportive husband.

The brunette wrapped her fingers around the shot glass full of whiskey, only now wondering if she was doing the right thing by taking this alcohol and trying to drown her never-ending sorrows or instead going back to the hotel room to once again make an effort to talk the situation out with Randy, knowing he probably wouldn't be in the mood for any of that, especially these days when Orton was going through his own round of personal problems that he just would not allow anyone, not even his own wife who couldn't even catch a break if she tried, to help him.

At the moment, he was currently dealing with yet another shoulder injury. But of course, being someone of high caliber such as him, injuries would just have to wait since both RAW and SmackDown rosters found themselves running thin due to the amount of injuries sustained from the constant overhaul of work the last few weeks. Orton didn't want to say it, but it was quite obvious he as in need of a break, which not only made his behavior even more irritable than it had been ever since the marital problems started. There was no doubt in mind Trish wanted to be the rock she promised herself she'd be for him many times before, yet Orton just would not let that happen, courtesy of his own male ego.

Trish drew the glass to lips, taking in the blunt aroma of the alcohol before gulping down the harsh contents. Well, cheers to nothing, she supposed. In an instance her brown eyes closed in an effort to distract her from the piercing pain that would settle in her chest the moment the hard liquor entered her body, throwing her head back just as fast to get it down her throat and once it did, a series of coughs escaped her lips, granting a few stares to pass her way. Nice, she managed to embarrass herself yet again.

Wiping the liquid from her lips, her eyes looked up and met the bartender's who came with yet another shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. Ready to pour yet another round of Jack in the small glass, he was stopped dead on his tracks the moment her hand went up as sign of having enough of the hard liquor. This wasn't what she called a form of clarity, not in the least. She'd damn near coughed up a lung at the expense of thinking this would free her of the nagging inhibitions in mind, when the only thing it brought was pain in her already heavy heart, so standing to her feet, the brunette slapped a ten on the finished counter before going about her way.

The summer rain splashed against her skin, granting a faint sigh to pass between her lips. She couldn't deny it, after feeling like such crap in the bar, the rain deemed to be the only thing that actually settled her thoughts, surely wasn't the first round of alcohol that she could only withstand after the first shot was passed down. The rain appeared to be her only form of solace, which only could only bring forth the thoughts she didn't want to imagine in the first place: yet another confrontation with her dear husband, Randy Orton.

Tucking back some of her damp hair behind her ear, Trish started for her car. Maybe she could take the long way back to the hotel tonight, then that'd give her a little more time to prepare herself for the inevitable. Every footstep she made, she managed to remind herself to go just a tad bit slower than before, that way she could still find the time to prolong the spewing of words that would take place in a matter of a few seconds just as soon as her presence was known. She didn't mind if by the time she did reach her rental she'd be drenched from head to toe. The fact that she couldn't, but would allow herself to go through yet another series of reasoning with Orton for no particular reason only made the trip back to the hotel that much harder.

The second she got to her rental, a fresh wave of anxiety caught her by the throat. She wasn't scared of her husband, not in the least, but she just didn't have the strength to argue with him. The only thing she wanted/needed from him was to feel his embrace, something she couldn't remember the last of, even if she tried, especially now more than ever when she couldn't get rid of the shivers that the now pouring rain brought to her. Now she regretted not listening to the news forecast for today. Luckily she'd be in her rental in just a few seconds, surrounded by the warmth of her favorite cardigan - just as soon as she found her keys, wherever they happened to be. She rummaged through the purse, finding nothing but her wallet, one last stick of doublemint gum, and a few other items that clearly were not her keys. Well, wasn't this just nice? By now she couldn't even manage to keep count of how many times she fucked up tonight, this one being the biggest of them all.

"Relax, Trish. Relax. Just retrace your steps," she told herself, doubt dripping from her every word the more she realized that she'd gone ahead and lost a pair of keys that she didn't even own. The loud, booming noise of thunder nearly made her jump out of her skin, petrified to even look any further as she found it ever so difficult to move or even breathe. Once she was able to catch the little breath that she had she started back for the bar to retrace her steps, hoping by time she did find them, the storm wouldn't be any worse and she could get back to the hotel all in one piece, whether Orton had bitter words for her or not. She honestly didn't care.

Passing the few parked cars along the side of the road, she used the backlight from her cell phone, looking under each vehicle to see if the missing jingles happened to be under there, but as she expected they weren't. She didn't want to go into full panic-mode, for there still happened to be one last place to look: the bar. The moment she walked back into the stale tavern, dripping head to toe from the rain that had gone ahead and betrayed her, she was greeted by none other than the same drinkslinger from moments ago. A smile playing at his lips, something Trish didn't even think was possible the first time she came around here.

"Looking for these?" He questioned, holding the electronic keys at hand as a sigh of relief escaped her lips. There were people in this world that were selfish, such as her husband and then there were people, such as him, who might not have always been the nicest of the bunch, yet still happened to have an ounce of care for others, even if he didn't know them-or to her at least. Maybe there were some good men left out here, surely wasn't her husband, but as always she would never admit his faults, for he'd let her know that everything that was going so wrong between them was her fault. She didn't believe she was solely responsible for she and Orton's constant bickering, but she wouldn't declare that he also was to blame for such.

"Thank you...so much."

"No problem. You better keep up with those next time or someone else will find 'em and you definitely won't be getting them back. Safe drive, Toots."

"I-I will. Thanks again." And with that, Trish turned on her heel out of the bar, feeling a little better than she did when she first left the bar. As she started for her car, her cell phone rang, stopping her dead in her tracks. Randy. Pressing the green talk button, the brunette placed the phone against her ear, coldness from his husky breath making the hairs on her body stand in place, "Hello?"

"I need you to grab me some painkillers from the drugstore, my arm is on fire."

"I thought we discussed this already, taking painkillers isn't a good idea, Randy. Look: when I get back to the hotel, how about I give you a massage. Fair enough?"

"No, that's not fair enough. If I wanted a massage from you I would've asked. Can't you see I'm in pain? Some silly massage isn't going to help when I have a damn autograph signing tomorrow. I need the painkillers. Now."

The brunette rolled her eyes. Her foot wasn't even out the door five minutes and already Orton couldn't help but whine about his injuries. "Can you at least wait until tomorrow when it's not raining? I'm drenched. Maybe you could ask one of the-"

"No, I want them now." Orton demanded, more serious than he'd ever been with her in all their six years of marriage. He let out a small wince before his breathing got any heavier, "If you actually did love me, you would just go ahead and get the pills for me. I don't care if it's not a good idea, I can barely move my fucking arm right about now and sitting on the phone with you isn't going to help, so either you get them for me or I'll do it myself. And I'll find way."

Before Trish could even respond, Orton already hung up the phone, leaving her to stand there in the wet garments she'd so badly ached to get out of. So much for coming straight to the hotel after her escapade. Brushing her brown hair out of her face, the former wrestler started back to the rental again, allowing herself to get lost in the rain, never once spewing another word. She was going to grab the painkillers from the drugstore, possible lightning in the distance and all. And she was going to like it, whether she wanted to head to store during these conditions or not. If she loved Randy as much as she said she did, she would do anything to make him happy - even going as far as risking her own safety at the expense of seeing him no longer in pain.

The Canadian brunette started down the sidewalk, slowly, letting a few salty tears fall from her cloudy brown eyes, wiping them before they could reach her cheeks. _What was she crying for?_ she thought to herself. People risked their lives for their spouses all the time, so this was no different, but of course it was. There was no reason that the painkillers couldn't wait til in the morning, yet Orton knew, regardless of the wet conditions, Trish would bypass his rudeness and do anything and everything, knowing he couldn't do such on his own. And if she didn't, the guilt-trips would surely take place and he knew how to work those good. Wiping the fresh tears that made their way down her cheeks the brunette stopped at her rental, ready to make yet another stop until she was greeted by none other than a strange fellow, who appeared to have followed her to her rental.

He stood there, a goofy smile etched across his skinny, long face as a cowboy hat, that lie lazily atop his head covered his scraggly, brown hair. Trish's face grimaced as her eyes took a good look at the thin man. He looked like he hadn't showered in days, not to mention looked so familiar, yet she couldn't quit pinpoint just who he was, while ultimately too stiff to move. None of that mattered anyway, seeing as that he was now inching his way closer to her rental, possibly thinking she was going to go home with him tonight when that was quite the exact opposite. She had a husband of her own to go to home to, whether or not if they had seen eye to eye with eachother the last few months or so. Never taking her eyes off the man, who looked well over the age of forty, her fingers, as much as they didn't want to move absently dove through her purse, moving anywhere and everywhere to grab her keys that were damn near glued to the bottom. Unfortunately, she couldn't keep the purse in her grasp much longer, making the handbag and contents inside fall to the ground immediately.

"Oh, I'll get that for you!" He exclaimed, practically breaking his neck to help the younger woman, but to her dismay she didn't need any. Just for him to leave her be, so she can get out of this horrific weather and change into some warm clothes.

"That's okay, I don't need you to do anything, thank you!" The fitness instructor raised her voice, but to no avail the man clad in a pair of wranglers and a flannel shirt would just not listen. With a smile on his aging face, the brunette man handed over the turquoise purse. In an instance she snatched the purse from his hands, finally grabbing the keys once and for all to unlock the doors so she could get out of here, away from this man.

"Ooh, feisty, aren't ya?" He slammed the car door closed after she opened it. "Hey, what do you say we have a little fun? Huh?"

"Excuse me?" She wanted him to reiterate the question just to make sure she was hearing right. How dare he ask her something such as that and think there would be no consequences for his blatant rudeness. Funny how she dealt with the same day in and day out from Orton, yet because he was dealing with his own problems within his shoulder injury, she didn't want to come off as if she didn't love him, although he knew she did. Niceness was her weakness and Orton knew how to play into that damn good.

"I have a husband, you know? And I really don't think he'd appreciate your blunt attitude. Now if you'll excuse me I have somewhere to be and you are most certainly not helping the cause."

"Not helping the cause, huh? Don't tell me you're one of those stuck up bitches, who think they're too good for a guy like me? I saw you in the bar flirting with that fat fuck of a bartender, so don't pretend like you have a husband. I know you don't. While you were too busy flirting the night away with him you could've been with me. Why don't you just stop beating around the bush and have a little fun with me, huh? I know you wanna get out of these wet clothes just as much as I do." He fingered the wet collar of her shirt until her hand quickly swatted his grimy fingers away from her body.

He continued, "Oh, you like it rough, don't you?" A light chuckle escaped his lips, setting up for the grand finale. In an instance he shoved the former Diva's body close to his. A hearty laughter escaped his thin lips, but not for too long because he soon found her fingers grazed across his dark eyes, howling from the excruciating pain of nails digging and tearing into his flesh, blinding him momentarily and giving her just enough time to get away from him. Her fingers yanked the door of Nissan Armada open, struggling to put the key into the ignition. Just as she found the hole for the key to go into, she was thrown from her car onto the ground, feeling a fresh cut on her forehead from the pavement that showed no mercy.

"You done fucked up now, bitch," her attacker growled, wiping the blood that formed under his eyes. "Now we're going to have some real fun. No one is going to hear you and no one is going to give a damn about you either." And with that, he yanked by her hair into the shadows, kicking and screaming, yet no one would hear her for the simple fact that no one was around in sight. Her body smacked against the brick wall of the alley as a quiet whimper escaped her lips. She was about ready to fall to the ground, slumped in a ball until he once again grabbed her by the hair, holding her face oh so close to his. The foul stench from his breath made her cry even harder and only made him that much angrier.

"Please," she begged him, tears mixing with rain. "I have a husband, who needs me. If you had any kind of common decency you would just let me go."

"Shut up!" He spat and slapped her square across the face. "Now let's get ready for the fun, shall we?" He dipped his head down to meet his lips with hers, and before either of them knew it, her attacker came falling down like a ton of bricks, into the nearby trashcans. For someone who wasn't too big, he came crashing down with a hard thud that made the hysterical brunette jump.

She looked down at the fallen assaulter before meeting her brown eyes with a pair of familiar blue ones that she'd known for over a decade. Without saying a word, her savior's gruff voice broke the thick tension in the air, a voice that she had never felt so good to hear until now:

"Let's go." He said, placing his hand on the brunette's shoulder, so calm and collective over the scene that had taken place only moments ago. It was quite obvious that he didn't want to shake her up than she was already was, but there would definitely be some explaining to do as to why she was even in this part of Houston when she should've been in the area close to the hotel.

After getting situated in his own vehicle, a heavy sigh passed between her lips just thinking of the disaster she called a night. She could hear the police sirens in the distance, they were ready to take away her attacker, but that still didn't make her feel any better about the things she so deeply regretted throughout earlier in the night. Had she not left her keys in the bar this would've never happened and maybe-just maybe that would be one less thing that would occupy her mind, but of course it happened anyway.

"You okay?"

She was far from okay, but wouldn't let Steve, or anyone for that matter know that. She didn't want to go to the hospital and surely didn't want to talk about the events of tonight. All she wanted and all she needed, at the moment was to get out of these wet clothes and forget tonight ever happened, but she knew that wouldn't happen, not anytime soon at least. She'd go back to the hotel and explain something to Randy as far as why she couldn't meet his fulfillment, but as of right now, she just didn't want to be reminded again of this night. Not now, not ever.

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Well, should I continue? Please review and tell me what you think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Oh my gosh, I cannot thank you guys enough for all the feedback and alerts! Can't. Stop. Smiling! Thank you so much,** PrettyRecklessx**, **Sakura Waldorf**, **TrishOrton**, **DashingsDestinty**, and **KrysDixie** for the wonderful reviews and thank you to those who followed/favorited! You guys are awesome sauce! Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

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Every now and then, her brown eyes would shift over to the speechless form, sitting a mere distance away from her, his blue eyes set strictly on the wispy road ahead, never once saying another word since they had gotten in the car. She sit there, fidgeting in her seat the longer they progressed into the night, expecting somewhere down the line, the utter silence would break, allowing her to finally somewhat relax her tired, trembling, frame. Just long enough so that when she did peel herself from the leather seat, she would exit the car as she came: all in once peace, yet as it seemed, the Texas native appeared to be in no rush to talk, only killing the anxious brunette even harder. She knew Steve would question her about her rather carelessness and stupidity, but when? Once they were in the hotel parking lot? The silence would be the death of her if Steve continued at this rate, making the events of what happened early in the night come flooding back to mind with every second he held off from the burning questions that would furthermore remind her of just why she couldn't do anything right tonight. The Canadian was usually at the top of her game, but tonight ultimately said otherwise.

Before turning her gaze back to the dreary, dark skies, her attention focused back on her co-worker. They would be back at the hotel soon, maybe there wasn't much else that needed to be said or exactly what needed to be said. There wasn't much one could say after such events without doing furthermore damage, but it wasn't as if she wasn't already damaged before, she just didn't want this night to be a constant reminder, even though it would probably haunt her for the rest of days whether she fell to her assaulter's knees or not. The fact that it almost happened did enough to shake her up, luckily not to the point where her mind and body failed to respond to Steve, putting her in a state of mental shutdown, something she'd already experienced the day she received the news of her sick father. She'd be damned if she let it happen again, so as she sit there, body screaming to be wrapped in the comfort of a blanket and heat, her mind couldn't help but flash back, slide for slide to the hell of an evening she had or the moment Steve opened his mouth.

The brunette felt the vibration of her phone, that lie tucked within her purse, vibrate against her thigh. She only knew one person that would be calling at almost 10 p.m., on a night before an autograph signing: Randy. Reaching inside, the brunette was met with none other than a crunched up phone screen, only able to read the first two words of what looked to be a fuming Orton's bitter words. She couldn't read the rest of the message for the simple fact that the interface was severely damaged, but knew just from the very first words that her eyes came upon, Orton wasn't happy. By now, the painkillers were the least of her worries and for the first time in a long time she wasn't sorry, but that was only tonight and by the time she did reach their room, the apologies would come rolling in once Orton filled her in on the pain she put him through since she couldn't get the job done sooner, which she fully expected as well. Even if she did care enough, she couldn't respond back to his message anyway. The the screen was locked and would need fixing.

"You gonna answer that?"

And for the first time since their long ride back to the hotel, Steve opened his mouth, eyes still fixated on the road but nonetheless able to speak as if he hadn't spoken in ages. The former Diva's eyes averted from the damaged phone to Steve's eyes, meeting hers with his momentarily before he eyed the road again. She stammered a few times, lips still unable to form a sentence without the irritating sense of quiverness behind them even though the worst had already happened. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't shake the feeling of her assaulter's filthy hands nearly having every way with her body.

"It's just a text message." She said raising the cell phone at Steve's eye level. Then she lowered her head, not wanting to make such eye contact again. A wave of embarrassment washed over her beautiful face in an instance just before saying the words, "Thank you, Steve."

The Texas native raised his hand, "Don't thank me, I was just did what was right. You know it's not a good idea to be walking around here, Trish, what were you doing out in this area this time of night anyway? Damnit, what if that sleezeball did get a hold of you, then what would you have done?"

"I think I know that, Steve. I just...I just needed a place to go to clear my mind."

"And you thought that bar back there would do the trick? Look: I'm not trying to make you feel even worse than you already do, but that bar, it's not even your kind of place, sweetheart. Those jackasses that sit in there all day? They could give a damn if you make it out of that bar alive or not, I'm not even sure if any one of them would've even had enough common decency to go out there if they did hear you tonight. Just a fair warning, Trish, if you just so happened to go back there, which I doubt, at least travel with a group of people. I mean it."

The brunette nodded her head, feeling as if some of the weight that rested on her body eased a bit, but still not enough to make her forget any less of what she'd gotten herself into. The only thing she could do was nod her head since Steve obviously knew more about the rougher side of Houston than she did. And without saying another word, the brunette turned her face opposite to the continuous round of rain that rolled lazily against the window, hoping that just from a little shut eye, as hard as it would be, the thoughts that caved into her mind at the moment would disappear despite knowing it would take more than just sleep to get rid of such. She leaned her forehead against the seat, letting out a quiet wince the second the cut that lie just above her hairline came into contact with the cold seat material.

_Some antiseptic would heal the wound in no time, too bad it couldn't do the same for all her problems_, she wished.

The lights from the hotel came into view shortly after Steve's lecture. Finally, she would be back in some warm clothes, but wait-what about Randy? She knew she couldn't forget about Orton for too long no matter how hard she tried. Already she was thinking of the worst yet again, knowing for sure that Orton would be most likely still awake, favoring that sore shoulder of his and foaming at the mouth just from the unbearable pain. She had half a mind to tell Orton that she'd been mugged and wasn't able to get the painkillers like he asked, but wasn't going to risk pushing his irritability further than it already was, especially since he wouldn't be in any mood to listen anyway. He never appeared to be in the mood to listen nowadays, so what was the use?

"I wasn't gonna ask til we got near the hotel, but do you think you need some medical attention? Hospital's not too far from here, you know? Saw that cut on your forehead, maybe they could stitch you up or something. I don't know, I'm not a doctor," Steve chuckled.

His eyes flickered to the brunette sitting in the passenger seat when he failed to get a response. Nice going, Austin, he mumbled to himself. Pretty stupid to be joking at a time like this. Steve touched her arm, "Trish?"

"Hmm?" She was absently broken from her thoughts, not even realizing she'd drifted off into her own world until now.

"I said did you want to stop by the hospital, so they could check out your forehead. You were bleeding back there."

Trish traced the wound on her forehead. A familiar, sticky substance covering her fingertips the longer she spotted the cut that didn't hurt as bad, but felt gruesome straight to the touch. No, she wouldn't need any medical attention, but nonetheless, the suggestion still brought a smile to her face since she set out on this trip that lead to nowhere but trouble. As a source of gratitude, the brunette's lips coyly formed into a half-smile, "Thanks, Steve, but I'll-I'll be fine."

Austin's lips coiled into a smile of his own, "No problem. Just wanted to be sure before we made it to our final stop, that's all. By the way, don't worry about how you're going to get your rental back to the hotel, you're covered."

"Steve, I don't know how I can thank you enough. Repay you or-"

"Well, you can start by taking care of that cut on your forehead. I don't like seeing pretty women bleed."

She couldn't help but return yet another smile to the Texas native, who without even realizing it, made her mind ease over the scene that had taken place back in that murky alley over an hour ago. Surely she'd be reminded again by none other than her thoughts, but for now, Steve would make her forget just that.

"Done."

Steve's F-150 pulled into to the parking lot of the hotel, the vehicle coming to a stop as soon as Austin found himself a parking spot. His blue eyes searched the dimly lit car to meet the brown eyes of Trish's, just to see how she was feeling at the moment. A few laughs and giggles obviously didn't keep her spirits up for too long because she looked as she did when they first arrived in the car: frail and oh-so powerless.

He had a half a mind to touch, so he could reassure her that she had nothing to worry about, but of course she did. Steve just didn't know it. All of her problems she swore not to think about when she arrived in that bar came rushing back in just as soon as it came to her attention that her mind wasn't off duty tonight. From her father's illness to work and marriage she wasn't getting off that easy. Not tonight just because she fell into danger. This would just be added to the list of things that ate away common happiness for her, not until she actually sat her herself down to evaluate all the situations, Randy included.

A frown crossed Steve's worn-down features, "Hey," he said placing a hand on her rain-sodden shoulder. "Let's get you inside before you catch a cold out here."

He didn't have to tell her twice before she quietly obliged. Just as the Canadian went to open her door, Steve stopped her for a moment to hand over his jacket.

"It's a little damp, but it'll keep you warmer than what you have on."

"Thanks, Steve."

Austin gave the younger woman a slight nod, finding it harder by the minute to simply look at her, knowing her ordeal - from tonight, at least. He didn't want to make it seem as if he felt sorry for her, but God knows he did. Never saying another word, he allowed himself to get out of the car before she did to tend to her, unsure if she'd even be able to walk on her own two feet. Of course she did, but the struggle to watch her standing there, looking so weak killed him inside.

Eventually, they made way their way inside of the hotel, both of them gaining stares from the few people who sit in the lobby watching tv. He knew they both looked odd walking in there as they did, but that still didn't give them the right to stare, especially if they knew the backstory behind such - he needed to get her upstairs, on her floor before people started making judgement. And just from the quiet chatter among those at the front, he knew they were already starting to do so. Steve placed his hand on the small of Trish's back to quicken her pace towards the elevator, hoping that by the time they did reach the sixth floor, co-workers and especially fans who just so happened to have a camera in tow, wouldn't be anywhere in sight so they could get a move on. There obviously wasn't any time to stop for a chat or even take pictures knowing the circumstance.

His thumb roughly jammed into the button indicating the sixth floor, mentally praying to himself that the the elevator doors open in time. Surely enough it did, giving Steve the opportunity to look up to the big man himself, followed by a quiet thank you. Passing the couple of rooms not far from the elevator, Steve stopped Trish for a moment just to make sure she didn't want to take up on the suggestion he was about to offer her. The Texas Rattlesnake lowered his head to the younger woman as his large hand gently touched her arm, "Hey," his voice so calm to her ear. "I know you don't want to worry Randy as soon as you walk through that door, so do you want to stop by my room? I've got some rubbing alcohol and a few bandages in there, just to clean up your face."

She could have blood running down her face, scraping to get into the door and Orton probably still wouldn't care. Before taking the time out tend to her much as she always tended to him, he would either end up growing frustrated or not thinking too much of the cause, which she definitely expected either or from him. But to at least lighten what would be Orton's reasoning for getting rather irritable as he always did, she nodded her head.

Steve led the way to the room located not too far from the elevators. His hand slipped into his backpocket to find the keycard, instantly whipping the credit card-like object from his pocket to hurry inside. Austin's blue eyes scoped the hallway one last time, just to make sure anyone from the roster didn't see them. When he found that there was no one in sight, he and Trish slipped through the door instantly.

As the pair furthered into the room, Steve's gaze traveled over to the wound above her eye. From up-close it didn't seem too bad, but nonetheless still a tad deep from the way Trish made it out to be. The damn woman was making it seem as if she had a tiny scratch on her forehead, when of course she didn't. And for her lack of over-reacting or even complaining about the cut that wasn't nearly as harsh as the things she endured in the past during her wrestling career, Steve couldn't help but admire the Tough Enough trainer. Furthermore for the composure she kept after that scene tonight when she could've been a ball of emotional wreck, but didn't happen to be-or so he thought. Deep down inside, her mind was screaming to ease up from the madness that was only now starting to catch up with her life, but like many others in the company and even her family, Steve didn't know any of that. Everyone knew Orton was having shoulder problems, so without making further assumptions as to why she wasn't at the top of her game, having missed two training periods with Tough Enough, everyone, including Steve bypassed her absence as a form of just looking out for her husband.

"The bathroom's all yours, towels and soap in there too." Steve announced handing over the first aid items to the Canadian. "Need anything, call me - I'll be out here."

The brunette shrugged Steve's jacket from her aching shoulders, finding the longer she stood to her feet, the more they ached to get out of those flats and into a pair of socks or better yet a bed. Grabbing the first aid items from Steve's large hands, the former fitness model trudged to the bathroom, not caring if she looked like a zombie walking into the other room. At this point, she had too much other things to care about rather than that.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, cursing at herself for such an act of stupidity when she should've for once not listened to her instincts and turned back around to her car. Blood stuck to her face, wanting nothing more than to run down it again the longer she kept it from a bandage of some sort. Heavy bags run for days underneath her tired eyes as the tears she hated herself for pouring, run down the lines underneath her brown hues. To muffle her crying just incase she did break out into a fit of sobbing, which she so desperately wanted to do, Trish turned on the faucet, letting the warm water soothe her pale, blood stained fingers. After grabbing a fresh towel from the linen rack, she leaned closer into the mirror, eyeing the cut that begged to tended to.

The stinging sensation from the warm towel on the scratch made her teeth clinch, knowing it would only get worse the moment that rubbing alcohol met her torn flesh. Not wanting think about it, the seven time women's champion went for the alcohol and cotton balls immediately after cleaning her face. She looked a little better, but feel too much. The former Diva flinched at the very first sign of the liquid intact with her skin, thankful that she didn't endure too much worse than what she had. She didn't know how she would go about approaching tomorrow with this band-aid over her forehead since she would also be due for an autograph signing as well with the other trainers of Tough Enough, but knew some fans would be in for a real treat the moment they saw her sporting this. Blinking back the few remaining tears in her eyes, the brunette disposed her trash and towel before heading back into the bedroom.

Steve stood to his feet when he heard the door creak, turning his body to the person opposite of him. Well, she looked a little odd with the bandage slapped on her forehead, but didn't everyone? Austin cleared his throat, "Everything fine now?" _Dumb question, Austin, 'course she's not okay_, his mind told him. " I mean..."

Her eyes narrowed, looking straight in Steve's light blues, "Yes, I'm fine, Steve. Thank you...thank you so much for everything."

"Aw, don't mention, Trish. Just did what felt right." The Texas native shrugged and started for the door, "You get some sleep, you hear? Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

She met Steve by the door before pausing to look him back in the eye, "I will," her voice not nearly as vibrant as usually was to Steve's ear. The yoga instructor's eye's turned elsewhere, to the hallway as Steve opened the door. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, finding herself not wanting to leave his presence just yet. "Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Trish." He croaked, reading the sadness still apparent on her beautiful face. If there wasn't a better time to hug the woman when she looked like she needed one, it was now, but before he bring himself to do so, unsure of if he would make things only worse for her, she had already turned down the hall, off to her room. Austin licked his dry lips, his mind wearing heavily on his friend and co-worker. Well, he knew Randy would take good care of her...or so he thought.

Trish quietly slipped her way through the door, being sure not to wake Randy just incase he was asleep. The second she walked through, she was greeted by none other than the light from the bathroom, in the quiet setting, indicating that Orton had already fallen asleep, possibly right after he sent that angry text. A sigh of relief eluded from her full lips, knowing that she wouldn't have to deal with any of Orton's woes tonight. She would be free of such, but by just chance, no more than that. Her feet softly shuffled across the carpeted floor as she found the couch to drop her purse onto. A hot shower would do her a bit of good - not much, but just enough to relieve her sore limbs.

The clothes that smelled of rain hit the tiled floor, bringing forth a light breeze to wisp across her body. Amidst the lingering breeze, she could feel the steam from the water onto her face, letting her know that the temperature was just right. Stepping inside the shower, the yoga instructor squinched that very moment, just as the hotness from the water hit her skin. It felt good, to say the least and since the events that happened, this was all she wanted and needed. Thankfully, Orton was a hard sleeper that didn't allow much of anything to wake him. After getting dressed, Trish looked in the mirror one last time to check the bandage on her forehead. Still looking good, not even soggy to the touch.

Once out of the bathroom, she crawled into bed to Orton, who looked to be safe and sound. When he wasn't flying off the handle over the simplest things or scowling at her, he was quite the cutie. Pulling the covers over her body, careful not to disturb Randy, Trish closed her eyes, unfortunately not ready for what tomorrow would bring her, and certainly not ready for what the rest of the night would bring her either:

"Fine time for you to come in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Thank you very much for the lovely feedback, **Sakura Waldorf**, **MySweetSeduction**, **SticksandStonesx**, **TrishOrton**, and **Trishrocks**, you guys keep me writing. I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this chapter. You be the judge.

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No, he couldn't be awake. He just couldn't.

But indeed he was.

Like a predator stalking it's prey, Orton's eyes glaze over to the semi-trembling form beside him, his tightened jaw yet to move, for he knew if he did say another word, he'd go off the deep end, only furthermore agitating his blown shoulder. His loving wife had some kind of nerve coming in here acting as if he didn't inform her hours before that he needed those painkillers, her act of stupidity depriving him of the much needed sleep he sought out to get yet in return he managed to fall asleep not long before she decided to mosey her way on in here. Now she sit a mere distance away from the younger man, speechless to say the least when he was sure just prior to coming here her ass was out lollygagging around Houston, pretending as if she didn't have a half-immobile husband to tend to, all the while thinking since she fell victim to the evening showers outside, that excused her of fulfilling her objective. She could've at least been more considerate by quietly coming in here so he wouldn't have any knowledge of her empty-handedness, but she didn't which only made the young Orton damn near ready to tear his arm off, possibly saying a few harsh words in order to make himself feel better, and of course letting his wife know how miserably she failed at making him happy when in reality the woman obviously went through hell and back on multiple occasions so she could put a smile on his face...except Orton didn't see it that way.

As far as he was concerned, she always had the tendency to do things that suited her when he'd simply made it clear that it was this way or no way at all, but as it seemed, tonight she obviously decided to completely go against the grain, bypassing his one measle wish to just grab the painkillers he so badly needed. By the end of the night she would do more than just lie next to him like some flopping fish out of water, she would give him an explanation as to why she couldn't handle business properly, and she was going to do it now. The older woman's eyes focus solely on her husband's, mouth clearly agape at the abrupt welcome she found herself entangled in the moment she found herself ready to close her eyes, but instead greeted with none other than the frigidness of her husband's deep, rather monotonous voice.

"Randy," the former fitness model breathed, pulling herself up from her reclining position to keep the third generation star's temper from flaring even more than it did the last time she made any communication with him. His piercing blue eyes bore holes through her soul, allowing a tiny whimper to escape her lips. The woman was far from scared of the Saint Louis native, but knew if she didn't say the right word at that very moment, she'd regret saying anything at all clearly due to Orton's ill-mannered mood as of late. She lick her dry lips, pondering the outcome of if whether she did tell such confessions to the brunette man, would he go into a fit of rage, something she happened to be quite used to by now or would he simply not have any strength for the latter by the way of already taking his frustrations out on her earlier in the evening. Definitely not the second option. If anything he would give her one of those icy, cold stares, all the while making it his mission to remind her that she clearly didn't give a damn about him, only kick-starting his usual routine of guilt-tripping her until she "admitted" she was in the wrong.

"Please tell me you have them somewhere in your purse because I cannot wait until the morning," Orton gritted, denial dripping from his every word.

She wished, but of course she didn't. She had half a mind to lie and say she'd forgotten about the pills, another part of her screaming to just admit that she didn't go to the pharmacy like he asked due to her running into car trouble and more. Lying wouldn't solve anything, only furthermore bringing unneeded problems to their side, but explaining that she ran into car trouble when she could've easily called him was also not a good reason. So what was she to do? At the end of the day the brunette woman knew both instances were in fact a lose-lose situation, neither any better than the other.

"I forgot. Sorry." Like hell she did. Now you've done it, Trish. In order to justify or better yet make the situation even worse than it already was, the Diva quickly opened her mouth, hoping the speechless Orton would listen. He seemed to be all ears that very moment, this probably being the only time he'd be willing to allow the older woman to speak without flying off the handle the second things got tough, "I'm sure the hotel has-"

"You mean to tell me you forgot when I begged you over an hour ago to grab them for me? What the hell were you doing, then in order to have forgotten? It's not that hard to go to the store, Patricia. You had the rental, the least you could've done was that. Don't you think I would've done the same had I wanted some pills from down there? Shit, how hard is it to for once do something as I ask? Either you're doing silly, unnecessary shit or you half can't do it right! Thank you. Thank you, wife for once again proving you're just as useless as they come. And you wonder why I don't ask for your help. It's because you make things too difficult. I will be happy as hell knowing that when I wake up, my arm will be too damn stiff to move because my loving wife can't do anything unless it's benefiting her."

"You know that's not true, Randy", she stated. "I'm sorry," she whined, but it was no use - Orton's mind had already been made. To stop the older woman from going on any longer, the former world champion raised his hand, having heard enough before turning to the bathroom.

"Save it," his deep voice echoed throughout the spacious suite. Then he stopped dead in his tracks to look the Canadian in the eye. "I don't wanna hear it."

Did he ever? A faint sigh escaped her lips the moment Orton went through the other door, leaving the trainer to once again revel in the poor set of choices the made today. Either way she knew there would be a few words exchanged but nothing too serious that they'd go to bed not speaking to another, yet tonight said otherwise. In an instance the former Diva could feel fresh tears form in her brown eyes. This wasn't supposed to be the way this night would end.

By now she was used to the incredibly agitated Orton, a mood that she found herself quite accustomed to despite losing her senses in the thought of Orton no longer being the hateful being he grew to be, but unless he for the first time in a long time just allowed her to help him when he clearly was in need, that would never happen. So pulling the covers up to her neck, the brunette woman closed her brown eyes, wishing more than anything that she could erase this night. Maybe, just maybe had she not been to that bar she would have been able to save herself from not only the filthy sleezeball back at the dive's wrath, but her husband's too-well not entirely, but clearly not as bad as what she dealt with now. She would even have the painkillers, although that wouldn't nearly change her husband's foul attitude the past few months. Well, anything was better than him not talking to her at all.

Tomorrow would come, granting Orton time to cool off, but would that also mean the fury of words Orton spat were just pitted out of anger or did he indeed feel this way, only now expressing his irritancy with her when she simply had no intentions of pushing his buttons even further than what it was. Hopefully by the time the autograph signing came around, he would be willing to put his harboring frustrations aside so they could talk. Whether it was about this night or even the color of the sky, she couldn't just sit there, not saying a word to her own husband - it wasn't normal...then again her marriage itself was far from the norm.

The morning sun beamed through the sheer curtain fabric, bringing forth a light yawn to escape between the petite brunette's lips, eyes searching every which way for a certain St. Louis native the second her vision came to terms. After their little spat last night, Trish wasn't sure if he'd left already, quite possibly to get away from her. This wouldn't be the first time he took off without her knowledge and quite frankly, at the result of the lies she told she didn't blame him. Just when her thoughts were settled unto her husband's whereabouts, in came the figure who stood well over six feet tall, a bottle of water at hand and what seemed to be a bottle hanging from his jacket pocket.

"Morning," his deep voice echoed until the single bedroom suite, pulling the brunette woman from her thoughts instantly. Well this was something she least expected. She was sure he wouldn't say a word to her, nevermind them being practically stuck with eachother this morning due to the autograph signing.

"Morning," Trish uttered sheepishly, afraid that if she said the wrong thing Orton would turn the tables on her by copping an attitude as he always did. "How's your arm?"

"I can move it to sign autographs so that's all that matter," he simply stated, making sure not to go into any further details with her. In a few minutes or so he would be out of her hair, turning back through that door in order to have breakfast with a few of the guys and girls before the signing. Shrugging the black jacket from his broad shoulders Orton proceeded to the kitchen to grab himself a bottle of water to wash down the bitter taste of the small, white pain reliever.

So much for trying to make small talk.

Well she would eventually have to regardless, so that didn't matter. Why did he always have to be so short in terms of how he went about things? Maybe if she tried again he would stay in place for one second just long enough to have an actual conversation with her. A civil one, nonetheless. Tucking a few brown hairs behind her ear, Trish cleared her throat noting that she meant to initiate yet another with the younger man.

"I was thinking of calling room service up so we could have breakfast, did you have anything planned with-"

"Nope, can't. John's already invited me to grab breakfast with he and some of the others downstairs. He wanted to invite you too, but it doesn't even seem like you're ready to go. I'll just tell him that you couldn't make it. They're waiting for me as we speak and the signing starts at 11:30. By the time you're dressed it'll be time to head to Best Buy altogether."

"You couldn't have waken me up to tell me that he was inviting the both us? We could've been down already, Randy!"

"I didn't think it was that important to you if you went or not, Patricia. Next time he invites I'll make sure that I notify straight after, seeing as that it's such a big deal when just last night you couldn't even do me a simple favor." A wicked smirk graced Orton's tanned features, "Oh, don't tell me you forgot, sweetie. I mean cause I know I didn't. In fact I find it quite ironic how the tables have turned this morning, don't you?"

"You know I didn't mean for that to happen," she spat back. "You're punishing me for what happened last night, aren't you? I told you I was sorry, there is nothing else I can do besides try again. And even then that still won't solve anything. Randy, we've been arguing everyday now for weeks-hell months, I know you're tired of it just as much as I am."

"And whose fault is that? Look: this clearly isn't going anywhere and I have somewhere to be. I'll see you when it's time to leave for the signing, later."

And just like that, Orton slipped out of the room, allowing the thick heavy door to close with a loud thud, practically making the Diva jump out her skin. This wouldn't be the last time Orton walked out on her when aiming to patch things up, so by now this should've been a wake up call telling her to stop implying and actually sit him down so they could finally see eye to eachother, but that would never happen for the simple fact that at the rate she was going in, Orton didn't have the time to listen to her or her silly pleas. Adjusting the blanket around her body, the Toronto native turned her sights to the hotel's telephone, a part of her needing to hear her mother's voice in order to clarify that she was indeed doing the right thing by wanting to fight for she and Randy's marriage. Alice had an idea of her daughter's hardships within the marriage, but not enough to actually make judgement that she was better off without Randy. As far as she knew, Orton seemed to be treating her daughter as he did the last time they'd visit Toronto; with respect and more. Except there deemed to be a problem - that was over a year ago and since then things changed drastically. And definitely not for the better.

Wiping the few tears that bunch in between her eyes, Trish placed the phone against her ear, "Mom?" she said.

Alice was quick to respond, _"Trish? Oh, it's so good to hear from you, sweetie! How are you?"_

She couldn't remember the last time she heard such life in her mother's voice. Then again, yes she could because the last time she did, her father was in an more than enough healthy state...or so they thought until the pneumonia crept up on him, preparing them all for the worse. Maybe John found to have been improving, a piece of information her mother hadn't received until now. Who knows? But whatever it was the former Diva knew she couldn't bring her mother's spirits down by dumping all of her problems on the older woman, whether she was her daughter or not. Her mother for once sounded happy, she wasn't going to take that away from Alice, so mustering up the last strength she had, the Diva brought a smile to her face before saying the words, "I'm fine, mom. Just calling cause I've missed you. How's everything back home? You? Melissa and Christie? Dad?"

_"Better than you know, sweetie. I've called you so many times last night to give you the news but the phonecall wouldn't go through: your father's making improvement!"_

And who would she have been to rain on her mother's parade by sharing that things still weren't looking too bright between she and Randy? "That's-that's great, mom!" She exclaimed, being sure not to fall flat within the tone of her voice. "Tell dad I love him so much, I wish I could come up there and see you two, but-"

_"But work has to be done. No worries, sweetheart. Tell you what? Whenever you can come on break for at least a week or two during that busy schedule of yours, come up to see us. Your father's been asking about you like crazy and I know nothing would make him more happy than to see you."_

"That can definitely be arranged, Mom," she sniffled, a silent swear spilling from her full lips the second she decided to do such. Her mother couldn't know that she'd been crying, it would only turn her mood sour. "Well, I love you. Tell everyone I love and miss them too, I'll be back in Toronto before anyone knows it."

_"Of course, Trish. And I love you too."_ Alice was about ready to give her oldest daughter her goodbyes until a light bulb in her head clicked on, seemingly reminding the older woman of something she'd miss if she were to hang up that phone right now. _"Oh, I wanted to ask how are you and Randy? I know you two were having a few problems as of late and I was just hoping that all has been settled since then."_

Just when Trish thought she was off the hook, here was none other than Alice, reminding herself of the issue her daughter informed her about weeks ago. No, nothing had been settled since then. Actually things had only gotten worse, but she couldn't tell her mother that, not as long as she was basically on cloud nine, feeling as happy as she did in years. What was one small lie? Everything, but if it meant risking her happiness for yet another soul, much like Randy, she'd do it, no matter how awful she felt as the end result.

"...We're doing much better, Mom. We just needed to sit down with eachother, that's all." Two lies in one day? Oh, she was on a roll for sure. The longer she stayed on the line, the longer she also knew even more lies would come rushing in with the quickness, so that's when she knew it was her cue to end the conversation before she did furthermore damage.

Her brown eyes mulled over to the clock sitting on the nightstand. 10:38. If she wanted to stay in good graces with the company she'd get off the phone and haul ass so she could get to the signing. "I'm really glad I got to talk to you, I can't wait to see you guys soon," she was starting to free the tears that over time, accumulated in her brown eyes. "I have to get going, but I'll call you back soon, I promise. Bye." The brunette placed the phone back onto its' receiver, a wave of guilt striking at her very being. "Sorry, Mom," she said before wiping yet another tear from her cheek, all the while counting down the minutes til she'd see her bitter husband.

Something was telling the brunette to take the stairs since the elevator seemed to have been avoiding the sixth floor well over five minutes, a part of her in no rush to move either way, for she knew she'd be confined to the space of the limousine out front with no one other than the man she shared vowels with six years ago. She couldn't find it strange enough how awkward it always was sitting in the same room with him, moreso when their group of friends were around, both of them fooling the gang into thinking they were still a strong couple when they were far from it, actually.

The doors of the elevator slid open, the loud bing it always made, alarming the brunette long enough to pull her from her thoughts so she could step on in. Her thoughts staggered her from moving any quicker, allowing the doors to shut almost immediately before a hand snaked through the opening of the tan doors. There she was not paying attention to her surroundings again when she found herself caught up in her thoughts, this time she deem to be lucky without all the crazies lurking through the night to catch her off guard with their cheap pickups.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed stumbling into the lift, her cheeks turning a rosy pink color from her lack of awareness. Judging from the other figure's lack of words they weren't too moved by her apology because they finished off the statement by giving her a knowing look.

"Hey to you too, Trish. Where were you this morning anyway? Nattie and I saved you a seat yet you never came down for breakfast," a skeptical Beth Phoenix added, back perched against the wall with bottle of water and Luis Vuitton purse at hand. They weren't going to be on the ground floor for another thirty seconds so the Buffalo native was all ears.

Trish pushed the button for the ground floor before looking the former Diva's champion in the eye, "I ended up over-sleeping. Sorry."

Beth gave the former Diva a sympathetic look, "It's okay. We can always have lunch after the signing, unless you and Randy are doing something afterwards."

"I doubt it. Why not?" She was startled by the bell of the elevator, indicating that they'd reached their floor. By the time the doors opened the Diva already stepped out of the lift, wanting to avoid furthermore conversation with the blonde. She just didn't want to be reminded again of her husband's blatant immaturity, especially when she'd have to see him in less than five minutes to head to the signing. Today was definitely going to be a long one, indeed, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad since she wasn't going to be the only one in that limo with Randy. Beth, John, and Nattie were to come along too.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, fans were looming every which way in front of Best Buy, nothing short of what deemed to be expected. From the guard rails, various fans of different ages lined up behind one another, screams filling the moment their favorite Superstar or Diva came within their direction.

"They're here!" The Texas native himself and one third of Tough Enough's training team exclaimed when he'd gotten up to the tables supplied with each Superstar or Diva's photo to sign as well as bottled water. Giving a few waves to the crowd, Booker took his seat along with his fellow co-workers, each of them garnering chants from their respective fans.

In a few minutes or so they'd get straight to the meet and greet, something the brunette sitting on the far side of the white tables couldn't help but be less ready for. She'd signed hundreds of autographs during her tenure as a Diva, even a fitness model, yet today clearly said otherwise since she wouldn't allow herself even five minutes to think straight. Despite it happening earlier this morning, she still hadn't shaken the feeling of lying to her mother nor couldn't she shake the feeling of knowing her husband damn near hated her. Trish thought it was understandable, though. She always did.

"Hey, you."

A familiar voice rung in her ear, forcing her to take her attention away from the first photo she was supposed to sign to the blue eyes of the Texas Rattlesnake himself. By the way of her restless mind, she'd forgotten all about Steve not leaving the hotel when she and the rest did, a sigh of relief escaping her pink lips the moment she realized the Texas native would be here with her as well. Since last night she wasn't too thrilled about today, but for some reason Steve appeared to have changed all that. The former Diva's eyes followed Austin's every move as he took a seat next to her, he too never taking his eyes off her, for he waited for some kind of response from the brunette.

"Hi, where were you? I didn't see you when we left the hotel this morning."

Austin's lips coiled into a dimpled half-smile before giving the woman an explanation, "I was just taking care of business, that's all...", then he gave her a knowing look.

"Steve," Trish started. "You've-"

Before the former fitness model could finish her brief sentence, in came the first fan covered from head to toe in a much similar attire to Steve's blue jean shorts, combat boots, and black vest he happened to rock back in the day. Austin slapped his large hands down onto the table before standing to his feet to stare the young man down, "Why it's my damn twin!" Steve laughed, making those around him do the same.

Trish couldn't deny how little effort it took for the Texas native to liven up a room, which was why she found herself more than grateful for his presence. Had he not been there, she wasn't sure how she'd manage to carry on with the three hour meet and greet, knowing her mind wasn't particularly set on the whole signing itself. A small smile pressed against her full lips as her eyes rest on the older man himself. There was no denying at all that she admired Steve - from both a business and personal standpoint. Whenever he walked in a room she knew heads would turn, whether that meant for the good or bad, he even had a certain aura about him that others didn't have, making him one of the most larger than life personnel within the company, despite he himself making his status in the business as just any other when he was far from that. _'I'm only Stone Cold Steve Austin,'_ he would say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **Ahhh, two updates within one month, this can't be! Oh but it is, peeps. Thanks for the very lovely reviews, **MySweetSeduction,** **SticksandStonesx**, **Anonymous**, and **DashingsDestiny**. Here we go with the next chapter!

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This wasn't her initial reaction of a Sunday evening when it came down to realizing how long it'd been since she'd spent time with him alone on such a cool summer night - nevermind the exceptionally dull program on television or the faint sounds a tree branch gave off when it tattered against one's window from the gentle breeze outside, the fact that for the first time in what seemed to be forever, there were no harsh words being thrown across the room signaling the beginning of what was to come the rest of the night until flared tempers were resolved, no screaming til the brink of tears, and most importantly, the eyes of animosity were not staring back unto her in the form of hate when the spewing of words were all said and done.

Either she was doing something right by not setting Randy off as she always did or he just wasn't in the mood to argue with her over the minor details, possibly since his shoulder looked to be the main focus. Whatever the reason, Trish wasn't complaining, although she did in fact wish to break the silence just this once to speak of plans for dinner as well as the rest of the evening before they were scheduled to go their separate ways - Trish to Cali for her training duties back in the Tough Enough house, Randy on the other hand to Virginia for the latest episode of RAW. In the case of conflicting schedules, with little time to spend with one another she knew this was one of her last efforts to make things right with her husband. He might've had not even the slightest desire to spill a word from his lips, but somehow, someway before the morning sun rose she would resolve most, if not all conflict with Orton.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, voice hesitant, nonetheless weary from the progression she should've made long ago yet didn't.

Now wasn't the time to draw back when he was right here, sitting in her presence, not leaving any time soon-that is unless she found a way to press his buttons again. Randy's eyes averted from his tablet to the woman he'd shared vows with a little over six years ago, an exhausted look on his tan face to accompany the fatigue in his right arm. His gaze was soft, one she fondly remembered so many months before when the thought of a shoulder injury or John's illness was the least of their worries, the autograph signing obviously wore him down, which could explain the hazy look in his blue eyes, but he'd still had yet to give her one of those stoic glares when the question seem to settle in his thoughts. Did he too not have the strength to argue?

"I'm fine." There he was again acting so short with her. Well at least he responded without any kind of motives, much like this morning. He probably wanted to, he just wouldn't since there were far more important things on his mind. If only he could operate this way on the regular, then things would be somewhat more manageable when it came to their problems; maturity made all the difference when it resulted in how issues were handled. "Don't worry about me, just get whatever."

He was at arm's reach of the bed, ready to fall into a deep slumber when she called his name, clearly in no mood to carry on with this conversation, for he could barely keep his blue eyes awake long enough for him to even check his email, clarifying the details of the next few shows - more agitating of his shoulder, which he indeed wasn't too thrilled about, knowing each time he stepped in that ring, there lie an even bigger probability of whether he'd be put on the shelf altogether rather than wrestling with a half-limp arm at all. Orton's blue eyes averted from the thick blanket he would eventually wrap himself in to the brunette sitting a few feet away from him. Damn, they were even physically distant from one another, an image feeding off that they were nothing more than two strangers sitting in a room together when they were infact so much more than that.

"Randy," she sqeaked, standing to her feet instantly, not sure what exactly she could say that wouldn't scare him away of cut such a conversation so short. She'd practiced this speech-rather lines over a dozen times in her head for as long as she could remember. Now as Orton, in what seemed like an eternity stand there giving her his undivided attention, she had nothing to lose and so much more to gain. Who knew what would come out of this? All Trish knew was that she needed to make things right with the younger man, starting now. Going another day in this kind of predicament would kill her inside if she didn't at least try. The Toronto native swallowed hard before narrowing her dark eyes to Orton's light ones, "We'll be both leaving soon to go our seperate ways until November...I don't want us to be like this, barely saying one word to each other. What if something happens, preventing us from ever-"

"It's not, Trish. Calm down."

Calm down. Quite honestly she was more calm than any other person would be, the situation something she couldn't just sweep under the rug a day longer. By the end of the night he too would realize the marital problems were nothing more than ammo that could easily turn on them within a blink of an eye, considering when one happened to least expect it, that loved one could be gone from their lives immediately with not one amendment the first. No she couldn't calm down, but what he could do is listen to her for just a minute.

"I am calm. Look: I know you're still angry with me about what happened last night, but if it's not a problem with you I would just like to gain back what we once had. My father has gotten better as of today, I know he would want us both to work things out, not to mention I do too." The brunette sighed before licking her dry lips, "I'm tired-so tired of arguing. Hell, I know you hate me, I'd hate myself too, but damnit, I just want this all to go away. I can't do that unless we do it together."

"There's nothing to talk about, Trish. We've hit a rough spot, it's not that serious."

What the hell was wrong with him? She didn't understand how he could be so nonchalant about the situation when he himself on any other occasion refused to stay in the same room with her longer than he needed to, he especially made it his mission to let his voice be known whenever the brutal words of disgust were thrown, now he couldn't even hold a conversation long enough to fix what was the budding seed within his anger? This must've been some kind of sick joke-or at least for the sake of saving their marriage she wished it were so.

A look of disbelief crossed her beautiful features at the mere thought of Orton thinking otherwise, "Not even," Trish shook her head, unsure as to what more she could say in order to keep Orton where she had him. The third generation star eyed the older woman one last time just as his fingers grasped the blanket that lie over the bed. He wasn't going to entertain her by giving her what she wanted, his eyes drooping with every second she went on with her banter.

As far as he was concerned, she was making an even bigger deal than what was expected, not to mention had nothing to worry about, for she would be back filming Tough Enough while he stayed on the road: it was a win-win situation for the both of them, especially him...well in his case. Here she was again getting all extra with him when the only thing he felt needed to be solved was how she handled things. The woman couldn't go a day without whining or acting as if she were in control with every damn thing when he didn't ask for much of anything. He was more than thankful that John was alright, but that still didn't mean that, plus some talk the night before their flight would stop her from getting on his bad side or make them some happy couple, which was also why he couldn't be any more evasive of the issue. He knew in his mind, it would take more than just one talk to settle things, possibly months, which was also why he in no rush to do such, add in he didn't have the strength for it.

"You're trying to avoid this on purpose. Why are you being so evasive with me? Randy?" _Randy! Do you not hear me? _His head begin to spin with every word uttered from her mouth, her words getting exceptionally irritating the longer she whined his named like a child. If he wasn't mistaken the women's voice sounded like nail against chalk, his mind only now wondering how he ever thought it was music to his ears when she couldnt be any more of a nuisance. Oh, he could definitely feel a headache coming on now...In a twisted turn of events he wasn't sure how to take this, whether to respond or walk out of the room as he always did when things got tough.

Candidly, he had no desire to do either since he would phsyically end up wrestling with both in order to get in some kind of leverage so he wouldn't have to hear any more lip from her. So what was he to do? He couldn't leave nor could he say another word to her, for if he did it would probably only fuel the fire. Well there was one last option, one he himself had never done before or ever thought would do but knew for sure this would shut her up almost immediately. At this point he didn't care about his shoulder, just for the talking to stop. Never saying another word, Orton viciously closed the large gap between he and the petite brunette before taking her in his arms, throwing her square onto the bed, and kissing her as if this would be the last time he'd ever see her face again. Roughly, his thin lips brushed against her full one's, a light moan escaping her lips from the mere touch of his thick hands fumbling with the buttons of her grey cardigan. The brunette was shocked to say the least, her mind revelling in the fact that it took this long to have some kind of reaction, or intimacy with her husband. Not that she was complaining anyway, because she knew when it came down to her husband making sweet love to her, he was damn good at it.

In instance the sweater-like material fell to the floor, leaving the Diva to shiver almost instinctively at the simple touch of his cold hands against her warm skin. Her back arched on cue when he tilted her chin close to his, blue eyes seaching brown one's to keep the intensity going as his tongue found his way inside the depths of her hot mouth. They weren't even undressed yet but already could she feel the moisture in certain places and more within her being, a light whimper escaping her lips, for she found herself beginning to crumble under his very touch. When his tongue met hers, his rough fingers clinched to her brown her hair, fiercly pulling at the thin strap of her white camisole until the thin fabric was just over her head, wasting little to no time getting at other places over her delicate body. She thought he would continue his slow pace yet she was taken by surprise when after she was finally down to nothing, instead of basking in the glow of her bare form, Orton only furthered his choppy onslaught as if she were a piece of meat, not his wife.

By the time the session was over, she was the one who lie on the bed naked while Orton stand there pulling his trousers from the floor, hot ragged breath panting away as if they actually did make love when it was simply a distraction. He didn't even come back to bed to spill into their afterglow. Instead he headed to the bathroom to take himself a shower as she lie in bed, holding the covers to her naked body, all the while feeling as if she were garbage by even allowing herself to think he actually wanted to do this because he loved her and really was tired of the fighting. Well she couldn't be any more wrong. She closed her eyes, not wanting to remind herself anymore of this night as single tear trickled down her cheek. And to think this was out of love...


	5. Chapter 5

Lazily, the brunette's finger graze across the screen of her iPad, finding out the hard way the longer she resisted the cup of coffee in the airport's café, the further she would be on the verge of passing out in this very setting, snoozing the morning away when she indeed should've been finishing up the last of the schedule she intended on finishing early in the week but never brought herself to complete until the very last minute or so when she had a flight less than an hour away. Gawking her head back for the second time that morning, the Toronto native jumped at the mere instance. Of all days she decided to work on the Tough Enough schedule this couldn't be any more of a problem, only now did she regret going to bed at three in the morning when she knew by the way of hoping to get her mind off the events from the night before, she wouldn't dare get anything finish, leaving the work to be done when she'd barely had much time to do anything, let alone the documents which contained no more than a few words. She knew the flight to Los Angeles would be a long one, however when it came down to accomplishing things on a flight such as this one her mind deem to travel elsewhere, pitting her further away from the job that would have to be done before Sunday evening. What was she going to tell the rookies? She was so wrapped in her own life that she couldn't handle the duties that came with being a trainer?

No, she couldn't tell them that, for not only them, but her own co-workers would suspect that maybe she just couldn't handle having another go at this, she needing to focus more on her family than anything else. Sure half of that was truth, although she knew in her heart she could finish up the season, not to mention her father would want the same from her rather than resigning from the task when she'd come thus far in the game. The challenge would be over before any knew it, the ability to keep her mind set strictly on the rookies a hard one, but nonetheless worth it, for it would give her father yet another reason to beat the pneumonia knowing she didn't let such an illness pry her from going forth with doing what she loved the most; helping others. Ironically, though she couldn't even help herself by pulling it together so she could do so, having missed two training periods before this season was half-way over. She wouldn't be surprised if the trainees by now found her to be useless, but for the sake of everyone around she would at least try her hardest to pretend as if none of this ever happened so they could realize that her missing out wasn't some kind of vacation but rather time to get her thoughts in check - unfortunately that never came to be, since then even further events came crashing down unto her soul, minus the fact that her father was getting better.

Taking in the sweet aroma of fresh roasted coffee, a dry moan escaped her lips as she quietly reminded herself not to give in to the temptation of getting up out of her seat until she actually got something down in the mini laptop's notepad, though easier said than done. Each time she gathered a few words to get ready for that week's schedule there always seem to be something distracting her, irritating her to the fullest when all she wanted was to stop thinking about the things she couldn't control despite trying her best to manage her own fate when that clearly wasn't in her hands.

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee."

Now wasn't the time for some random to be hitting on her, of all days this one. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time? In an instance the unexpected visitor's large frame blocked the incoming light in her view, making the former Diva further frustrated than before. She didn't have time for visitors from friends, let alone a stranger like this who seemed have to been watching her rather closely a good few minutes or so in order to suggest that she needed anything. Her brown eyes aggressively tore away from her tablet to the eyes of the figure standing before her, completely oblivious to who it was - a co-worker to be exact, as a light huff escaped her lips, "No, I don't need-er...Book?"

Correcto. Standing there with a cup of coffee at hand, Booker gave his long-time acquaintance a friendly pat on her shoulder. He could tell she wasn't in the best of moods judging from the had look on her face, her gleaming brown eyes unusually dark today.

"You alright, Trish?"

Booker knew the obvious but would allow her to say otherwise. Whether Trish was alright or not, he couldn't force himself to not ask of her well-being, it was just in his nature. She didn't have to say anything if the answer was personal, although she indeed looked as if she needed to talk to someone. They weren't going anywhere another thirty minutes, she had a little time to spill her guts so that she wasn't all long faced and full of blues on the flight...plus he actually wanted to sit down and enjoy his coffee away from the chaos just outside the café that consist of folks rushing to their flights as if they didn't already know they needed to be here on time. In other words...he just wanted to bask in the savory flavor of hazelnut with a friend.

Trish gave her friend a knowing look to accompany the frown on her beautiful face. "Not really. Been rather distracted as of late and can't seem to get my thoughts together to complete this schedule. My mind is so out of loop that I can't remember what I've covered with them. I don't even have the file on my computer anymore to see what we've gone over or have ahead. Damn flash drive crashed as I was ejecting it from my laptop."

A faint sigh fell from her full lips at the thought of how she couldn't be any more irresponsible. She could only blame herself for her poor choices, though. Not her flash drive, not her family problems, or anyone/anything else for the matter. This was beginning to become a pattern, she could sense it from a mile away. In an effort to keep the former wrestler from falling into even deeper distress, Booker slid the cup of hazelnut coffee across the table to the person who obviously needed it more than he did, hoping that it would slightly relieve her of the stress that she couldn't control if she tried.

The older man gave a light shrug, "You need it more than I do, I think. Hasn't been touched yet either. Hey, I'm sorry about what's been going on with your family and all, you just can't let that distract you from doing your job, you know? Take it as a reason to keep doing what you do. You know your father wouldn't want that."

"I know," Trish nodded. "Thank you, Book. He actually has gotten better but still...I just don't know where to pick up where I last left off." The Toronto native pulled the cup of joe closer to her, breathing in the heavenly mixture of hazelnut and French vanilla as she allowed the fresh brew to warm her hands. "Do you ever have those days when you miss doing your usual routine and all of a sudden everything in your school just goes out of whack?"

Booker inched out a hearty laugh, "All the time! You know when the twins came along I was running back and forth between work and home. Look, Trish: you just gotta relax. I'll give out a helping hand incase you need some on the plane, which I doubt...but if you do, just tap. I'll be up...sorta."

Trish shook her head with a laugh, "Oh, Book." She knew there were still problems beyond her father's marriage, however she couldn't but feel some form of clarity behind Booker's words.

Things could only getting better from here as far as her father went, the thing that still happened to bother her the most, though was her rocky relationship with her own husband and how she would be able to get back to work under such circumstances. By focusing on her issues she would still allow herself to fall victim to the foolish mistakes she'd racked up the past two days. And when it came to foolish mistakes the incident from two nights before should've told her to stop for once - stop for once to take a breather she most definitely needed. There wouldn't be much time for that on the plane ride back to LA, but it was enough.

"Are Bill and Steve around?" She inquired shortly after. It was getting around time to head to the lobby for their flight. She at least wanted to see her two remaining Tough Enough castmates before they boarded the plan in a little under fifteen minutes.

"They should be here by now. Didn't see them when I came in, so I'm guessing they're already at the gate." Booker pulled his glance away from the brunette sitting before him to his coat pocket. "I have to take this phonecall, Trish. I'll see you in a bit." And with one swift movement the five time WCW Champion was out of sight to the nearest location away from all others. In an instance, when the older man fell out of her site, a wave a disappointment washed over her features once again when she'd realized her happiness wouldn't last long at all.

"Flights for Los Angeles will be taking off in ten minutes," she heard the PA system inform those who were headed to the City of Angels. This was her cue to leave now, hardly ready for the task that await back in LA. Maybe she could pretend as if she overslept so she wouldn't have to board that plane. Then again...there wasn't any use for that considering she'd already seen one of her Tough Enough castmates today. Make that two by the way of Bill DeMott coming in her direction the second he too made his way to the gate. The burly man who was well over two-hundred pounds gave the younger woman a soft smile right before proceeding her into a hug, something she obviously needed, but wouldn't express such. By the time she'd greeted Bill, Booker was already in hindsight as well, leaving none other than one last person of the the bunch to join them, where ever he happened to be.

"Tickets?" The gate agent inquired. Rummaging through her purse Trish was the first to pull out her ticket, surprised at herself for not fucking up for what seemed like the millionth time in recent days. Definitely a sign that she was going to LA one way or another, whether she was mentally prepared or not. Trudging along with her suitcase and purse at hand, the former Diva followed the two others through the gate to the plane she would be stuck on the plane the next three hours or so.

"Is Steve coming?" she inquired as the group of three inched their way through the tight aisles of the plane. By now Steve should've been on board with them since he too would be leaving for the next city.

"Not this early. He was stuck in a meeting and won't be back at the house until later. He'll be here, though." Booker replied, finding his seat and putting his luggage away. "Need some help with those bags?"

"No, I've got it, thanks. See you guys in a few hours."

Disappointment drip from her lips in those very last words. For someone who wasn't too thrilled about being on this flight in the first place, she surely seemed to be looking forward to Steve's presence the most through all of it. Now he wasn't here, leaving her to wait the flight out despite not wishing to be here in the first place. Since the bar fiasco two nights ago, Austin appeared to be one of the only things she came looking forward to, nevermind the fact he would be the first to question her sour mood or lack of getting work done, he undoubtedly happened to be one of the few people, along with Booker that she could talk to and wouldn't be judged for the poor choices she would eventually make if she didn't stop fooling around and focus like she was supposed to.

_"I would never judge you,"_ the Texas Rattlesnake proposed nine years back when she came to him one evening before the show to talk about the future of her career, knowing he was just at a retirement of his own. Austin wasn't even in the building for five minutes when she remembered stopping him in the halls, immediately second-guessing herself when it dawned on her that Steve would be the first out of a select few that she would ever discuss retirement with. No doubt in mind that she was near the peak of her career, but the fact still remained was she doing her job well enough to keep going?

There were better women on the roster who she felt deserved to be used in the right context as she did, however could it possibly be that she was the blame for that? She knew her looks were one of the reasons why she was pushed, so that maybe if she did step out of the spotlight, others would have a chance at showing the company just what they were capable of. But there deem to be a problem, though: she wasn't ready to hang them up just yet. And as the sole mentor she sought out for him to be, he declared those three words right before she found the courage to spit out what'd she came to him for in the first place. Austin was straightforward with his response, not caring too much if others didn't agree, she held talent others on the roster didn't have. No, she wasn't the best wrestler on the roster but with her determination and drive to get better at craft of wrestling, she was a shoe-in for one of the best just by having as much heart as she did. _"Leave if you want to,"_ he said. _"But if you walk out that door you better be certain that you don't want to come back."_

He was right. And if there was a time she wished to hear Austin's voice again, now was the perfect time.

"But you said you would give it to me when I got on the plane! You lie, mommy!"

Add in a pair of earbuds as well to drown out the crying that was bound to ensue if the mother didn't give the fussy child standing in the aisle what she promised him in the first place. In the back of her mind she could tell this would definitely be a long ride - sadly, not for the better.

When she was finally situated in her seat in front of the family that consisted of the previously crying child and his mother, the brunette buckled in her seatbelt, grabbed her tablet, and eyed her surroundings, hoping the peaceful setting would stay this way, for she needed to get back to the task she doubt that she would ever give the proper attention to the longer she stressed herself over things that was simply out of her hands. Just as she prepared to get herself fully comfortable in the seat she would be sitting in the next three hours or so, a harsh thud connected with the back of the upholstery, making her petite body smack against the leather padding that support her back.

_That little bastard._

Before the fitness trainer could give herself a chance to glare at the small child for his incredibly poor behavior, his mother who looked as if she would pass out on this very plane at any minute, gave her an sincere apology. She knew she couldn't fault the woman since children always did happen to be a handful, she just wished the child was more well-mannered. That definitely wasn't too much to ask, seeing as that, from what she overheard while grabbing her iPad from it's bag, his mother would give him the toy he'd been whining about the last five minutes or so when he calmed down.

Quite frankly the little boy with the teary blue eyes and blonde hair didn't quite get the memo because he still wouldn't stop acting like the brat child she feared she would someday run into while on a flight longer than just a couple hours, meaning she would have to deal with such the remainder of the plane ride if he didn't stop acting like it was the end of the world over a toy he would eventually get back, he just needed to fix his attitude. The flight hadn't even started, yet she could feel the trip to LA would definitely be one of the worst ones she experienced in recent years, nevermind the one she happened to come across two years before when the passenger just two seats over wouldn't stop snoring or blowing his nose and coughing without covering neither his mouth nor nose.

"It's alright." She tried giving the older woman a sympathetic smile, only to be shot down with a frown in return. The woman obviously had a lot on her plate just by dealing with the small child who wouldn't behave properly for the life of her. And the brunette thought her problems were far more important...The poor woman looked about ready to pull her hair out from the whining tyke, his big blue ears filled to the brim with tears that came down even quicker the more anger built up inside his small body. She probably needed the distraction of a small child to get her going. Lord knows she needed some kind of inspiration to besides Booker's works to light a fire under her behind, maybe this was exactly what she needed. Just for today she would wait something such as this out until she was able to pace herself, hoping this would leave her with some kind of success so she wouldn't be sticking out as some kind of sore thumb as a trainer.

Pushing the power button of her tablet on, the brunette grabbed her reading glasses from it's case. _Crunch time. _Now where would she begin? All of a sudden, when she thought she found her niche to start on this hell of a schedule she spent months at a time working on, yet lost completely this time around, she thought she heard some sort of rattling noise coming from the seat in front of her. Low and behold, she was right. Not until after she discovered the funny noise in her ear, did she she realize the racket a seat before actually appeared to be someone snoring the morning away when the flight still hadn't even taken off yet. Trish had to remind herself that it was yet another obstacle that she needed to shrug off - or at least tried to, considering the passenger's snoring wasn't any less irritating than the little boy's crying. Yep, this would definitely be a long ride, she just needed to focus on what was most important at the moment, which happened to be her job.

The morning seemed to have gone for the better in terms of her getting somewhere within the planned schedule she'd been kicking herself in the gut over the last half-hour or so. Some things still were a bit foggy as far as remembering what she recorded the first time around but for some reason with the excessive snoring in her ear, she was determined to remember most, if not all it - even if she still had other things that were still haunting her psyche. Just for the sake of the rookies, she hoped to at least be done before their plane landed since there was nothing like scrambling to get something done as it is.

When she was finally decently happy with her work, Trish placed her iPad back in her purpose realizing she still had more than enough time left on this flight. There wasn't much to do besides listen to music, read some novel she found out the airport's gift shop, or snooze the rest of the morning away. As she feared, the fitness trainer would be reminded of the events that had taken place over the weekend, a rather disappointment by the way of her trying her damnedest to not let these past events decide her fate when she arrived back in LA: would she come all in one piece or stay as the nervous wreck she didn't want to be since it was the sole reason she missed those training periods in the first place.

A few hours later she woke up to the sound of the airplane's PA system informing the passengers to slowly one, by one exit the aisles after unbuckling their seat belts. The snoring fellow who accompanied her throughout this flight was the first to unlatch his seatbelt among the two, a gracious smiling resting upon his lips. He should've been happy. He'd been asleep since the second he arrived on the plane, but she wasn't one to complain anymore since he happened  
to be one of the reasons why she felt accomplished this time around - his excessive snoring as well as the brat child behind them was indeed the fire she needed to be lit under her ass in order to get things done.

The seatbelt clicked with ease as the Diva stood to her feet to claim her bags, thankful that she wouldn't be stuck waiting for her bags after the flight was over since she'd gone ahead and brought them with her. Standing alongside her fellow trainers outside LAX, the Toronto native watched the few cars that pass through the loop for chauffeuring such rental cars, their four door SUV coming in with the quickness. Bill took hold of the steering wheel before allowing Booker and Trish to round up their round up the last of their luggage.

"Who's ready to return to that damn frat house?!" Bill yelled out the second the last door of the truck closed. The former wrestler let out a hearty laugh when there was barely a response from the two other trainers. A sigh of relief dripped from the brunette's since it was revealed she wasn't the only one looking forward to this - even if it were for different reasons.

Bill's foot smashed down on the gas grasping yet another hearty laugh as well as a few heads turning when the car whipped out of the parking lot. He always was known as driving like a bat out of hell which was why he couldn't be any more eager to lead the way to the house. Last time the large man took control of the driver's seat, Booker was damn near ready to spill his guts out on the freeway, repeating the words 'oh, shit' whenever he thought they would go flying into another vehicle, one of them including a cop car. Before the officer could acknowledge the speeding vehicle, Bill was already out of sight.

"Come on, man, it's too early in the morning for that!" Booker yelled, giving Bill a glare that spoke volumes on how incredibly annoyed he was this moment in time. "Drive normal for once."

"What? I can't hear youuu!" He teased, changing the radio to none other than a heavy metal station, blaring the music as loud as the city would let him. Booker seemed to be the sole individual of the four door who Bill's reckless driving and god-awful choice in music for the morning affected since she'd yet to make a peep since they'd arrived in the car. Not that she would anyway, for her thoughts were taking control of her sanity as it always did the last few months.

When the trio finally arrived at the house, the three of them went their separate ways to get back in the swing of things, which included mentoring the rookies who would definitely be back at it come Monday. Since the four higher ups were gone for the weekend, this left them with just one more day to rest, train one on one or do anything they felt they needed to do because tomorrow morning would definitely be a test to show who handled their time off wisely and who didn't.

Trish made her way up to her villa, taking in the dry air of the Californian heat the longer she stayed in such conditions. She knew the first thing she would do once situated. The Canadian dropped her bags on the bed when her aching feet reached the queen sized, looking through her purse to find her iPad to text or FaceTime Randy. Despite what happened yesterday he was still her husband, who wished she had the chance to say goodbye to yet didn't when he left at five in the morning to head back onto the road. Before doing anything else, she at least wanted to make sure he arrived at his destination even though he'd yet to ring her up or text her. She wanted to believe since her phone was still in shambles that he in fact did call but couldn't receive the call or message, although she knew deep down inside that was anything but. After two failed FaceTime requests and not one text message in his name, the brunette figured she would head for the shower until he supposedly responded back.

Fifteen minutes later the brunette emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around her petite frame in a manner that was evident that she was more than anxious to see if he'd got her message or not. Her eyes close in disappoint momentarily when she realized he'd fail to respond to her FaceTime request, even more when she discovered that he didn't text her back. He could've possibly been in a meeting which could explain why there was so hesitant to get back to her. Then again, it was also just the fact that he didn't care enough to get back to her...or maybe he did.

The iPad chimed at the newly received message, a message that clearly wasn't from Orton. Her face grimaced at the screen when she read the name Booker above the text bubble, damn near ready to choke Book through the iPad's screen for getting such hopes up. _Barbeque at Bill's villa tonight at_ _7_. Well she never thought about it before but if this was some kind of get-together this would possibly settle as a diversion to keep from envisioning things as well as jumping to her iPad every five minutes or even hopping on phone to call her husband. Guess that would be her plan tonight - hopefully she would have gotten word on the St. Louis native by then.

Night came before she even expected it, at an instance when she found herself waking up to the dark skies of California after a deep sleep which practically fell in after earlier that day catching back up with the rookies as well as the cameramen and crew for the show. How relieved she'd been when they didn't let her absence the past few days dictate their way of words with her. The last thing she needed was for anyone to feel sorry for her, not to mention she didn't want anyone to know that past the confident smile and her stance within the business lie an emotional wreck of a soul.

"Ready for barbeque and beer, Trish?" Bill asked the second he opened the door of his villa, a usual greeting for him, which included not actually saying hi to the visitor on the other side of the door. The Florida native smiled wide at his co-worker before pulling her in a hug. "Come here, you! Booker's in the back finishing up the last of the barbeque, want a drink? Since Steve isn't here right now, I'm the bartender for the night! What will it be? Beer? Tequi-"

"Water's fine." Trish replied with a half-smile before shrugging her jacket off her shoulders. The brunette started to the patio to greet Booker, unbeknownst that in the next few minutes a new guest for the party would be arriving as well. She plopped in one of the patio chairs across the grill as a small smile lie present on her lips when she'd received her water from Bill.

A knock echoed throughout the tiny villa, bringing Bill to the front of the living quarter, "Hey, Steve's here!"

Steve? Bill didn't have to say the Texas native's name twice before the remaining Tough Enough castmates came rushing to greet him. Trish was the last to come through the patio door, her eyes resting on the tall man who happened to have already been interacting with the other two men when hadn't even been there five minutes yet. His blue eyes linger to the brunette standing a mere distance away, a half-smile resting on his fair features.

The party had officially started now that he was here.

Later in the evening, after everyone settled down from dinner, a few in the group decided to talk about what was to come for the next few training periods and the future of the show. Stepping out of the conversation, the brunette helped herself to the mini fruit platter on the counter, anxiety crawling up her spine all over again when she figured she would officially return to her training duties tomorrow. Sinking her teeth in the pineapple, the brunette was caught by surprise when Steve approached her.

"Hey," he said in that thick, Southern accent of his followed by a dimpled smirk. "Helping yourself to some fruit again, aren't you? Maybe I should've had Bill buy more of that and less beer, huh?"

Trish stifled back, instantly retreating the pineapple rind onto the small paper plate sitting nearby. "Guess so." She chuckled lightly, eyes somewhat afraid to meet his, for he could always read them with ease. Her fingers wrapped around the red Dixie cup full of punch to keep the attention anywhere but on her. "And how are you?"

"Fine, fine. Done taking care of business so we can officially get thing back in order at Broken Skull Ranch. I'd like to ask you the same, but judging from you not failing to look me in the eye, something seems to be a problem."

Busted. Damn, was her mannerisms to evade the obvious really that plain to see? Or did Steve know her too damn well? Possibly better than she knew her own self.

"Just have a lot on my mind is all. Been trying to recover from the other night as you can tell." And more...

She continued, "I can't thank you enough, Steve. You really had my back when I thought I'd fucked up and it was the end for me. Thank you again."

"You keep apologizing and you're going to make me teary-eyed." Austin feigned a tear. "I don't like crying, you know? Gotta keep up this tough exterior for everyone thinks can walk all over me, including them rookies." Steve tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear before momentarily placing his thumb under her chin. "You ain't got nothing to worry about, Trish, alright?" The Tough Enough host pulled the former Diva in his arms as a sigh of relief escaped her lips. She knew for a fact that Steve's words were rather easier said than done, but even despite all that, the feeling of Steve's arms bringing her the utmost comfort when she wasn't even sure what to do with her life, made her feel at ease. They always did.

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Thanks for the awesome reviews, **DashingsDestiny**, **MySweetSeduction**, and **IngniteMyEnigmax**! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


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